The Princess Of Panem
by BluebirdBrigade
Summary: SET AS IF KATNISS & PEETA NEVER EXISTED. When Aurora is reaped at 16, she knows she is doomed. Being from district twelve, she believes she stands no hope and has little confidence in her abilities. Maybe a certain career can make her find sense and love.
1. The Girl With The Silver Hair

**The Princess Of Panem**

Chapter Five: The Importance Of Grapes

**By BluebirdBrigade**

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**Aurora**

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"Aurora Dyeran."

Every single muscle in my body broke down and I felt myself sag as if I was going to fall to the floor like a pile of skin and bones. But honestly, that was all I was: Skin and Bones. How could they expect me to fight in an arena with 23 other tributes? All of which want me dead, and most in excruciatingly painful circumstances. I felt my eyes prick with amplified fear, and my mouth went dry with panic. I felt someone bump my shoulder powerfully and I lurched forward. In all honesty it was the wake-up call that I needed. I stumbled out of the rows upon rows of people and walked up to the big podium on where Effie Trinket, the ghastly woman with vivid pink hair who came to announce the reapings every year, stood with her startlingly white teeth gleaming at me. They were almost as bright as my hair.

I know. I have practically white hair. My hair is that blonde, that it looks white but luckily I doesn't look as horrible as it sounds against my skin tone. But unfortunately, having white blonde hair has made me somewhat known around here in the seam. I'm the only poor child who has the hair of 'royalty'. I hate it. When I was younger, I used to get bullied by the kids at my school because I was the freaky kid with the bright blue eyes and the hair that was so powerfully bright. Ha, powerfully. It was so unlike me. But you never know, my hair could be my ticket to receiving sponsors in the games.

I can't believe I'm thinking about my hair at a time like this. I'm literally walking towards my death, and all I can think about is the growth on my head. Children luckier than me, move away from me as I make my way closer and closer to Effie like I have a disease. I've always been classified as weird by everyone but I've learnt to cope with it. I've learnt to cope with a lot of things—being from the seam. I turn around before my shaky legs can touch the steps that I'm supposed to climb. I turn around and scan the older men and women who stand around the sides, praying that their children will not be picked. It doesn't take me long to find him. He is watching me, his darker blonde hair glinting in the open sun. My brother, Apollo, breathes heavily and a deep pain clouds his eyes. I close my eyes, because I don't want to see it or I'll start to cry. Instead I send him a kiss, because I don't care how childish I look like. If I'm going to die, I'm going to let everyone know I'm leaving behind loved ones. People I care about, people that the capitol is taking me away from. I open my eyes, in time to see my brother give me a watery smile and his eyes fill a little. My strong brother, who has always been the one to stop my crying and kiss my bruises and cuts all better, is the one who is crying. Now I'm really going to start bawling.

I climb the stairs, my heart in my stomach and my cheeks red from trying not to lets tears slip down them and from the embarrassment of having so many people look at me. Effie Trinket claps her hands together and smiles hugely, her eyes bulging as she does so. Her wigs teeters slightly but as much as I will it to, it doesn't fall. I stare at the crowd with determination. They stare back, some pity glances and some blank because they don't know me.

"My My, what bright hair you have." Effie Trinket smiles, but I note a look of envy in her heavily eyeshadowed eyes. I feel like shouting at her to have it. She can have all of the hair on my head if she just took my place in the games. Seems like a fair deal. Ha, I really shouldn't be making jokes at this time. "Our female tribute, Aurora Dyeran. Let's give her a round of applause."

There is no clapping. There never is. You'd think after all these years Effie would just give up. They just stand, and watch me. Their eyes often pausing to watch my hair flutter in the breeze. I should probably explain how big a deal it is, that I have white hair.

When I was in my 4th year of school, a boy pushed me into a wall and I managed to scrape my entire leg on the brick. He claimed that witches should be burned and someone with as bright a hair as I had was without a doubt a witch. I ran home crying, curling up in my brothers arms. It was at this point that my brother told me that no matter what anyone thought, I was beautiful and I had to be stronger than the idiots that tried to push me down. My parents ignored us like they usually did but my brother took me through a gap in the fence behind our garden and led me to the heart of the woods. He then crouched on all fours and pulled out a sword that was tucked under a rock. It was the most beautiful sword I'd ever seen, a bejewelled handle that shone with rubies, saphires and emeralds. I remember actually falling back onto the floor with surprise. I had interrogated him on how he had managed to find such a rare beauty.

"You can't tell anyone this, Arianna." My brother whispered and I nodded solemnly. "I found it deeper in the woods, wrapped in a cloth and tied to a tree. Someone had left it there, on purpose and they had also left a note."

"W-What? What did it say?" I had eagerly replied, the perfect little audience. My brother graced me with a smile.

"_Remember it is fate that destined you to find my sword."_ I had sat back, awed. And as Apollo had expected, I wanted to learn how to use the sword. I had been 10 then and now at 16, I had practiced every day. But what use was a sword to me, when the career tributes could use every weapon imaginable. They could probably use them better than I could. Most likely, they could have clobbered me over the head by the time I'd even thought of which angle I could defend myself with it best.

My brother was a master at using it, although he had taught himself. He knew different attacks from experience and I was merely his apprentice. But we enjoyed the time we spent together because it meant getting away from our parents who often pretended we didn't exist until need be. Well, that was until 2 years ago when they both died in a fire while me and my brother were at school. Being fourteen and my brother 19, I cried and wept for them even though I barely knew them. My brother just held my hand, and soothed me but no tears fogged his vision.

We weren't blamed directly for the death of our parents because we were at school, so there was no way we could have killed them. But whispers would follow me around. Witch. Witch. Witch. I often wished I was a witch, so I could say a spell and make them all disappear. No one approached me from my year, so I often sat by myself.

"Christian Waterfly."

I watched as everyone twisted in the 2nd line to face a boy with raven black hair and dark eyes. He was young boy, only 13 or 14 years old. His eyes met mine in a scared panic, but he masked the fear by dropping his gaze and walking like a warrior up the stairs. I didn't know Christian at all, and he didn't know me. But maybe this was better. I wasn't going to kill him, there was no chance there, but if he did get killed…I wouldn't have that pain that I could have had.

Christian reached us and stood either side of me, staring straight ahead. Effie turned back around to look at us and then she gave an annoyingly high pitched giggle.

"Well, what do you know! Complete opposites! How quaint!" We all know she is stalling so that she we can rush this 'ceremony' by. Christian and I give each other a long look but instead of being cold and distant, I give him a nod. I don't care how much these games will destroy us, I am determined to stay the person I am even if I go insane. I won't be rude to this boy that I've never met. Still Effie had a point, it was true. Stood next to eachother, Christian and I looked like exact opposites in appearance. But I knew that beneath the surface, we were both feeling the same thing. Fear.

I was suprised when Christian returned the nod, tentatively. Boy tributes are usually fiercer than the girls, its a well known fact. They're more ruthless, but don't let that fool you into thinking the girls are an easy kill. Sure, they are not as brute as the girls, except maybe Enobaria who tore open this one tributes neck with her own teeth, but they can be very manipulative.

I look around the rest of the stage. There sits the mayor, looking at us quite sadly but he doesn't look me in the eyes when I turn and look at him. Next to him is Haymitch Abernathy, who has a bottle in his hand that no doubt contains some sort of liquor. I like Haymitch, although vitually no one does. I used to know him around the hob, and we'd speak on occasion. I might be the only one who knows why he drinks so much alcohol, although you can probably guess. Haymitch has lead an awful life since the games, and he doesn't sleep well. When I can find any, I give him a fundol leaf that soothes his nerves and calms his mind but it is rare I fine one. I remember the day I met Haymitch.

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I had stumbled over some crates that contained some spices or something and the woman who owned the crates had shouted at me when one of them had been knocked over. She was shouting loud enough for everyone to turn and begin whispering, "Witch." again. I remember the panic I felt in my chest and the sweat that stuck to my palms as I apologised profusely. However the woman was having non of it, and probably rightly so. Food of any kind is hard to come by in a poor place like the seam. I was about to cry from the onslaught of this woman when a hand pressed out a pushed against the woman.

"Leave the girl be." Came the husky voice and the powerful smell of alcohol filled my senses. He tossed the woman a coin and she huffed at him but she turned away looking satisfied. I turned to the man ready to thank him, but his next few words made me pause. "You know your potions, am I right?"

No one knew about my potions, and I was sure that if they did it would only add to the emphasis that I was a 'Witch', and I didn't need that. They weren't exactly potions, more like medicines or soothers and I had a knack for making them. My grandmother had taught me how to use them and make them. I only let people I trust know I make them. I didn't let my parents know because they were greedy people and would no doubt sell my potion collection to anyone with a gold coin in their pocket. I was pretty good at working out which medication worked on what injury or which soother calmed the mind...etc. But I was suprised that Haymitch had found out about me.

"I do." I had whispered, pulling him into a corner of the street where we couldn't be heard.

"Good. Because I need something for this." He pulled up his t-shirt and I saw a wierd dark mark on his chest. It was a rich dark brown and clashed with his pale skin. I recognised it as a the rash of a gertewood plant. They were poisonous to touch and they spread and festered, but they cured coughs very well when you powdered the leaves and made them into a broth with lotus leaves. I placed my fingers on the inflamed skin, seeing angry red spots form around the dark red splotch.

I brought him back to my home, pulling my potions from under the floorboard beneath my bed. As I fixed him up I had asked, "Why didn't you get something from the capitol?" Haymitch had looked at me gruffly, the smell of my salb had gradually overtaken the stench of alcohol.

"They're useless. And I don't really trust the capitol."

"I don't think anyone does." I had said. Haymitch left and I thought that would be the last time I saw him. But the next day he came back, and gave me a rare smile. His rash had disappeared almost completely, the red spots had faded away and it seemed to be healing. And from then on, Haymitch came to my house - careful to come when my parents were oit - whenever he needed to. My brother was quite sceptical about the whole thing but I enjoyed having a patient to treat.

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"OUR TRIBUTES AURORA DYERAN AND CHRISTIAN WATERFLY. MAY THE ODDS BE IN THEIR FAVOUR." Cried Effie into the microphone, trying to be as dramatic as possible. She then turned to us with a creepy, big smile and ushered us off the stage.

And the only thing I could think of as I left the stage was that I was going to be killed and I was so scared.

Even after all these years, I was still the frightened little girl who ran home crying.

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**This is my first hunger games story, so I hope you guys like it :)**


	2. The Human Factor

**The Princess Of Panem**

Chapter Two: The Human Factor

**By BluebirdBrigade**

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**Aurora**

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This was the sort of nightmare that you feared and thought about as you lay wide awake in bed, unable to sleep. It was like a monster, you felt like it was there in the darkness but somewhere in the back of your mind…you know it wasn't. It was just you being scared. Not this time. The nightmare had come true, and it was happening to me.

I sat still on the soft velvet couches that were within the justice building, letting the velvet stroke the palms of my hands and comfort the internal agony I was going through. When I died, my brother was going to be all by himself. He was going to live in agony, drink himself to death like Haymitch. There was denying it, I was the one thing he treasured above all else. His arms were my safety, his being was my anchor. He was my big brother and I loved him so much, I didn't want to leave him to rot in this place. Dammit. I was going to cry, I couldn't cry. I blinked thrice, trying to bat the tears away unsuccessfully.

"Rory."

I jumped but as soon as I saw my fair haired brother, his eyes big and full of pain, I ran to him and hugged him hard. I couldn't believe this was the last time I was ever going to see him. I couldn't let him go. I didn't want to ever let him go. His arms entwined around me, and he was seemingly in the same mindset. And I let go. I begun to cry in his arms as he rocked me back and forth.

"Apollo, I can't do it." I sobbed, letting the crying control me. He jolted back, his eyes glazing over. He began to brush the tears off my cheeks, and calm me down but I couldn't calm. I wasn't strong enough, I wasn't going to survive.

"Rory, you have a good chance."

"Don't lie to me Apollo, false hope will get me nowhere—"

"I'm not." He shook his head, and let his eyes hit the ceiling like he was praying. God never heard us, and he certainly hadn't saved us. "Ro, you know your plants. You're intelligent and you can fight."

"Not like them! I'm useless." I reply, and suddenly I'm weak-kneed and about to sag onto the floor. I'm useless. I'm useless. I'm going to die. My brother holds me up, making sure I don't fall.

"You're not. You're damn good with a sword. You might not be powerful, but you have skill. If a tribute tries to pull you into unarmed combat, you run. You can run, I'll give you that. I remember the day when I got on your bad side. You caught me within a minute."

He gives me a smile and I give him a watery chuckle that turns quickly into a sob.

"Stay safe." I whisper to him.

"Don't worry about me." He says, swatting my plea away. "Ro, I have something for you." He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a locket. It's silver and fancy with lettering on the front that I don't understand. "It was grandmothers."

I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment as I let myself remember her.

"You're a warrior. Like her."

"I'm no warrior."

"You have no faith in yourself." Apollo grabs my hand and drops the locket into it. "Keep it."

"I'm not allo—"

"You get one token. There it is." He points at my hand. I hear a the rumble from the otherside of the door as the footsteps grow closer. I pull Apollo in and wrap my arms around him because I'm not going to let go.

The door bursts open, and two men in white suits grab Apollo around the shoulders. I won't let go and it takes them a minute to prise us apart.

"I lov—" he yells to me.

The door slams. It sounds like a jail door slamming shut.

"I love you too."

I don't give a shit anymore. I cry in a small ball on the floor, and no other visitors come and see me. District 12 will be glad to get rid of their witch. Maybe the tributes will burn me at the stake. How fitting.

The doors burst open after 5 more minutes, and the two humongous guards clad in white with massive helmets pick me up of the ground and set me on my feet. Taking deep breaths, I steady myself and they then lead me through the door and to my fate.

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Reporters lie in wait for us at the train station. They stretch over each other, wide and creepy smiles stretch their faces into awkward shapes. Their limbs flying everywhere, their cameras an attachment to their arm as if it belonged there. As I go past with the guards, the capitol people make comments as if I can't hear.

"Her parents died when she was so young, the poor lamb!"

"Hair like molten silver!"

"Such a beautiful farewell to her brother at the ceremony, don't you think?"

After the last comment, I block every single one out by singing a nursery rhyme in my head. Over and over until we reach the gleaming train with its shiny metal and unblemished coat. No longer blocked by all the people taller than me, I can see Haymitch looking at me with an expression I cannot read. No doubt I am the first of the tributes he's ever had to mentor that he knew before the reaping.

Christian Waterfly hasn't cried once, that's clear on his face. But the tremble on his lip tells me that he will break soon. My heart goes out to the boy who had so little time. For a moment, I hope he wins. Then I remember that if he does win, I certainly won't be around to see it. Christian may have a better chance than me, no doubt. He's only 13 but he's almost my height. I tap his shoulder, as Haymitch enters the interior of the train.

"Let's get on." He runs a hand through his hair and he complies. We enter the train, both unaware of what we might find.

It's beautiful. I knew it would be, Capitol items are always beautiful and glimmering and expensive. The couches are a pristine white, and the floors are immaculately clean. Everything looks as if it was brand new. As we enter each compartment, they just seem to get more and more extreme. In the dining cart, a fountain of what looks to be chocolate stands in the centre of a long table. Fruit is arranged around it on silver skewers. Cakes decorate the table, except they are small and dainty. You could probably peel off the layer of paper around it and pop it straight in your mouth. I also notice the beautiful artwork that is drawn on to the china teacups and their saucers.

Almost immediately after we enter the room, Effie leads us out to show us where our rooms are. She taps the doors where we will be staying and giggles in a high pitched voice.

"Now, you two can have some time to yourselves and then meet us in the dining carriage for dinner. It's at 6pm sharp! Don't be late!" She twirls on the spot and she clicks away with her pearly white heels.

Christian and I look at each other. He really is a handsome youthful boy, it is such a shame. His eyes were a dark, mossy green and his hair was like the dark chocolate that lay on the table in the dining cart. But he looked so miserable and I realised I must be the mirror image of him. I drilled my lips into a straight line and walked into my room.

I probably shouldn't have been surprised at anything right now, because it was clear everything the capitol had made for this train was just stunning, but my face dropped in shock.

The floor beneath me was covered in this fuzzy red material. I took off my worn out shoes and let my toes sink into the redness. I ignored the rest of the room and walked straight over to the king-sized bed that lay to the right of the room, and threw myself on top of it.

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I must have lain there for a while because when I checked the time, three hours had passed and there was a knock on the door. I pretended to be asleep, Effie could just leave me in peace.

"It's me."

Well, I hadn't expected that voice.

"Come in." I said clearly, not moving from the bed.

Haymitch Abernathy entered the room, bringing with him the pungent smell of gin. I tried not to wrinkle my nose. He surveyed my bedroom with piercing eyes, lips drawn into a line that one could mistake as a frown.

"Nice room." I sat up, pulling my knees up to my chest and taking a couple of deep breaths. Haymitch didn't seem perturbed but instead he moved over to the arm chair that I hadn't noticed that stood next to the large window. His outfit didn't suit him, I decided, it was too capitol-esque and Haymitch just wasn't. It was a weird shade of gray and a pink and green striped tie lay over his midnight blue waistcoat. It looked distasteful. But Haymitch didn't care about clothes.

"Isn't it just." I replied monotonously.

"I won't say I'm sorry, because you're stronger than people give you credit for. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for." He took a sip of the brown drink that was in his left hand. "When I first met you, you were a frightened little girl. Now look at you."

"I'm still the same, Haymitch." I say bitterly. "I don't change."

"You already have." I stare at him and he leans back superiorly. I try not to grit my teeth in anger. "Every tribute does after the reaping."

"I wonder why." I say flatly, and he raises his eyebrows at my sardonic behaviour.

"Come on, Rory." His casual nickname should comfort me but instead it brings back memories of my brother.

"Haymitch." I don't check to see if he's listening. "Promise me something."

"I never can."

"No, I mean, promise me something _important_." Haymitch sees the understanding in my eyes and deflects the idea I've given him that my life isn't important because at the moment, to me, it isn't. If it's not important to the Capitol, it's not important to me. "When I die, don't let my brother give up."

"_If_ you die, I won't." Haymitch takes another sip. "So you're not even going to try and win?" His tone hints at incredulous but also disappointed.

"I'm going to fight with every last bone in my body. But I'm not going to win. How can I win?"

"How did I win?" Haymitch asks me suddenly but I don't answer him. "I don't even know how to this day. I can watch myself on tapes, winning. But HOW did I win?" When I still don't say anything, he stands up and walks towards the door. Before he walks out and leaves me in my room that feels suddenly too big for me, he turns back.

"If you give up now, you have no chance. I'll tell you that."

And then he leaves and I lie back in my enormous bed, the soft pillows underneath my head do nothing to making me comfortable. I feel sick, and a pain in my chest that I soon come understand as heartache for my family. I look up at the ceiling but all I see is a Apollo's face.

I finally let myself really cry, with wailing that is only stifled by the pillow beneath me. I hide under the duvet and let rip until my eyes are sore with crying and my body can't take the sobs anymore. And then I go into the bathroom and find a cubicle with a water sprayer above attached to a metal connecter. I sit on the ground of this cubicle for half an hour, just sitting on the floor while the scalding hot water hits my skin. I feel myself burning, and red marks quickly appear on my skin but I don't care. I kind of enjoy the pain, it humanises me and I really need that human factor right now.

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**Chapter Two of my first HG FF - Review and tell me if you enjoy it :) I will also add a link to what I think Aurora would look like on my profile.**

**Love**

**Lex**


	3. In The Darkness With You

**The Princess Of Panem**

Chapter Three: In The Darkness With You

**By BluebirdBrigade**

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**Aurora**

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"There she is!" cries Effie Trinket as I enter the dining carriage. The train doesn't even jostle like I've seen carts do when they take the miners to work. You can barely feel the train moving, and its only when you look out of the window that you realise it is. "You're late. Not the best start."

I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at Effie Trinket.

Christian is already sat down at the table, Haymitch is pouring himself another drink. I resist the temptation to smack it out of his hand. I seat myself opposite Christian, and immediately my plate is full of food that has been brought to me by person dressed in scarlet clothing and scarlet lipstick. Food that looks so beautiful, I don't know if I dare to touch it in case it's actually a painting. I end up not being able to resist it for long because my stomach growls. I haven't eaten since the early morning and the effect has taken its toll on me. I eat what I can and begin to feel queasy from the rich food. I gulp down the cold drink of what appears to be orange juice in an attempt to settle my stomach.

Christian says nothing throughout the meal, as do I. As Effie twitters on about this and that in the Capitol and how amazing it is, I begin to notice the redness that circles around his eyes. I want to hug him and tell him everything will be alright but I can't.

"Have you decided yet?" Haymitch asks me gruffly, startling me. I look at him confusedly and he sways his cup around. "Are you giving up?"

The whole table goes still, even Effie has shut up. Christian raises his eyes to meet mine and I breath in deeply.

"No." I mutter, taking more of my cold orange juice.

"Good." Haymitch laughs loudly but there is no humour to it. "Now. Christian." He looks up apprehensively. "We'll need to figure out your strengths before the games and use them to attack from within. Usually I don't give such a shit what you do, because it was easier that way. You ask and I answer, that's how it used to be. But unfortunately, you have Rory here and she's a stubborn lass so I'll have to be the interrogator." This is about as friendly as Haymitch gets. I roll my eyes at his behaviour but Christian soaks it all in like a sponge.

"I can fish." He says after a while. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. That is really useful. If he knows what to do with a hook and can get himself food then he is pretty much raring to go.

"Fish? Are you sure you're not from district four?" Haymitch mumbles grudginly. "Okay. You can fish. What else?"

Christian goes red. "I guess I'm strong…for a thirteen-year old. And I can throw with good aim."

"Now we are getting somewhere." Haymitch leans back in his chair and picks up a sharp knife. Effie gives a horrendous gasp and Haymitch rolls his eyes at her. He hands the knife to Christian who gulps noticeably. "Throw it."

"Where?" He asks apprehensively. Haymitch looks around the room at a suitable target. There is a picture of President Snow hanging on the wall and I see Haymitch grin maliciously.

"His head." Effie shakes her head in dismay but says nothing, she looks intrigued. Christian gives the knife a strong flick in President Snow's direction and it lodges itself right in his forehead. Haymitch mutters some praise.

"Ooh!" Goes Effie loudly, clapping and giggling. Christian goes red again and I give him a smile and a nod. Haymitch notices, and eyes us both.

"This is probably the first time I've seen tributes even acknowledge eachother." Haymitch flicks his eyes between us and I suddenly stiffen. Maybe I'm doing this wrong? Maybe I shouldn't be so warm to him. I try to glare at Christian but I can't. He's just a boy, a helpless little boy. He's an innocent. It's unfair. "Now, Rory."

"Haymitch." I say back, and he rolls his eyes.

"I know you're a skilled potions maker." Now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"I'm Amateur at best." I say, looking away from the table and out of the huge windows that lay on the side of the train. I can't see anything but rubble, so I'm guessing we are passing through a certain district. I let my mind toy with which one it could be, but before I get very far Haymitch has reeled me back in.

"Your self-confidence astounds me." He mutters dryly. "What else can you do."

"I can use a sword. But I'm still pretty much powerless to combat—"

"Hang on we'll get to that. What's this about a sword." Haymitch leans onto his arms and for some reason, so does Christian. I glance at Effie but she's busy giving some order to an Avox, her hands moving so fast they are like a blur.

"My brother once found a sword, in the forest behind our garden. He taught me to sword fight, although I'm average at best." Haymitch scoffs and mutters something like, 'we'll see about that.'

"Fine. If you're going to be an idiot about it." Haymitch says scornfully to me but I brush it off. It's usually around now, after a couple glasses of gin that he gets mean. "When we get to the Capitol tomorrow, you will receive stylists. From what I'm I've heard they are the best the Capitol can offer and so you'd be an idiot to question their judgement. You will do everything they tell you to, even if you don't like it."

I frown at this, because I most certainly will not just sit back and watch as they sell me off like a slab of meat in the Hob. "N—"

"I don't care what you think." Haymitch hisses at me, and I know I've gone a bit too far. I don't shrink back but I look at his eyes that show deep deep hardship. "You will do as you're told for now."

I read his eyes for a few more seconds, and he mine. And then I look away and he leans back. One look up and I see that Christian looks petrified.

"Don't look so afraid." Is all I can manage. Christian doesn't say anything but his features loosen up and he nods determinedly. This simple gesture does enough to raise a smile to my lips.

"Finally, a smile." Comments Haymitch, but I ignore him for the rest of the meal out of pride.

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They send us to our rooms, so that we get some rest before tomorrows 'Big, Big, Big Day!' (as Effie puts it) although how they believe we'll sleep is beyond me. Its 12 am and I'm lying awake in bed, with only the moonlight from the window as my friend. I take shelter in the fact that wherever we are, we'll always be under be same sky as everyone else. Maybe my brother is looking up at the sky tonight, maybe…

I can't stand lying down on the bed anymore. I take a walk around the room, but after a while I begin to feel sick. The heat is stifling and my lungs feel as if they were sandpapered. I open the door to my room slowly and carefully so as not to disturb anyone at this late an hour. I step out into the cool corridor, revelling in the loss of heat off my flaming skin. My bare feet relish the icy floor and I take a couple more steps. I close my bedroom door and walk down the corridor quietly. At the end of the passage I move through the dining carriage and through into the next one, which I don't recognise. It's dark, really dark, so I feel my way around the edges of the carriage in hope that I might find another exit. I keep looking, finally smacking my palm against a large metal door. I pull it open, only to find it's even darker than the first.

Now I start to really panic. If there is anything I'm afraid of, it's the darkness. You never know what is lurking within, friend or foe. I lick my parched lips and feel slick with sweat. I take a couple of breaths and carry on through. I wasn't going to stop until I was well away from my obnoxious room. Halfway down the dark, never-ending corridor I stumbled over something rigid and camouflaged.

"Ouch." I yelped instinctively, only to have another hand that wasn't my own to slap down on my mouth.

"Shh." Said the voice and I almost wet myself in absolute fear. "It's Christian."

I felt my body sag in relief as I gave out a quiet, high pitched laugh. Squinting in the darkness, I saw him and his eyes peeking curiously out at me.

"I'm guessing you couldn't sleep either." I mumbled aloud and he stood up. I was suddenly afraid he was going to leave me, stranded in this dark hall, all by myself. I reached out and tugged on his shirt for him to stay as he clicked on a light that was hovering above my head.

Our eyes met and I blushed as he realised that my hand was pulling his shirt. I let it go and looked at the floor.

"Sorry." I murmured, "I'm scared of the dark."

Christian nodded curtly at me and then sat down beside me politely. I had just revealed to him a major weakness of mine and he hadn't laughed at me. The lighted hall was a relief, as was the coolness in the air. I leaned my head back against the wooden panels that lay behind me, hearing a hollow clunk as it made contact with the back of my head.

"I don't like my room." Christian spoke, watching me out of the corner of his eye. I knew what he meant. It was lovely on first glance, beautiful in fact. But over time the more you looked at it, the angrier you felt. How can the capitol afford such luxuries when we can barely survive a week in District 12. "It's so…"

"I know." I gave a nod of my head at his confession.

Christian remained quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against the hard floor and instead of annoying me, it soothed me. I brought my knees up to my chest.

"Are you okay?" His voice echoed slightly around the corridor and I jumped.

"No." I replied honestly and he let his gaze slide over to face me. "But is anyone?" I let out a dry chuckle and he joined in.

"Nope." He shook his hair and rubbed his left eye sleepily. I noticed the deep black marks under his eyes that indicated his sleep deprivation. I considered his age, wondering whether or not he was as old as I thought.

"How old are you?"

He looked back at the wall infront of him, his jaw tightened. "13. My birthday is in 2 weeks."

"Young." I replied bitterly. It was so unfair for him, I was older more experienced and I had lived longer. I wasn't going to live much longer…

"I guess."

"Is Haymitch right? Should we be ignoring each other?" I asked aloud, because I didn't know the answer in any context. I knew that I didn't want that to be the case because Christian was the closest to being human and pure in this demonic place. Haymitch wasn't there anymore and Effie was so garish.

"We probably should." Says Christian, shrugging his shoulders. Then he tenses and looks me in the eye. "But I don't see why we should follow rules."

I liked the sound of that. I wanted to disobey in every way possible. If I was going to die, I was going to do it my way. And with this is mind, I rationalised my next move. "Allies." I say nervously, turning to Christian.

He blinks at me in a bit of shock but then he smiles a cheeky and warm smile that I'm sure would have melted my heart if I were years younger. He shakes my hand and said, "Friends."

We smiled at eachother for a couple of moments. We talked for ages, just hitting topics and I found it was easy to have a conversation with him. He was such a sweet boy, and I felt as if he were my younger sibling. I imagined what it would be like to have a younger brother, someone to boss around and protect. I'd only ever been the little sister of Apollo. It's nice not to feel so weak. I needed all the strength and courage I could muster. Christian had a large family and he was the eldest and looked after his 3 younger siblings a lot. When he was little he learnt from his father how to fish using a sharp stick. It was one of his favourite past times, but the fish in District 12 were often tiny little things and not very good for eating. Our discussions soon got onto what the Capitol was going to be like.

"You'll do fine in the Capitol." Christian assured me after I had voiced my worries to the young lad. It turns out Christian, or Chris as he likes to be known by his friends, had a heart of gold. He was so innocently sweet beneath his boy exterior. It was heart warming and heart breaking at the same time. How can such a child be swallowed up into the capitols darkness?

"I won't." I say stubbornly. "I'm awful atgetting people to like me. I'll get stage fright and faint or something." I moan, voicing my biggest worry. What if I vomit on stage? That'll make a great impression.

He shook his head and then added in a serious tone, "You wait, when we get there the Capitol stylists will be clawing each other to get you as their tribute."

"Huh?" I was confused.

He went a pretty pink, "You're really pretty. They'll all want you as their tribute."

"That's total rubbish." I said folding my arms, and my voice got quiet. "I'm the witch of District 12."

Christian probably knew all about my little nickname. Everyone did, a bad day was when girl would shout abuse at me from the side of the street and laugh at my hair. I always thought it was a curse and would constantly request my brother to dye it somehow but he would get very angry and tell me how precious my hair was. I didn't understand this at the time, maybe he wanted me to sell it? But now that I thought about it, my brother loved my hair. It was 3 shades lighter than his own blonde hair and we was always ruffling it whenever he got the chance or stroking it when I was upset.

"The witch of District 12? That was just jealous wives spreading rumours." He insisted but I didn't believe him. Why should I? It was untrue and he was just trying to make me feel better.

"You're the cutie pie in this team." I pinched his cheek as I said this and he flushed a little and jerked from my grip. I was in a good mood from this conversation with Chris. He made me feel normal and liked. He didn't seem to be afraid of the fact that I was known as a witch at all which was lovely and made me feel warm.

"Aurora, you are so blind." Christian tittered, giving a small laugh.

"Rory. You can call me Rory." I say immediately. I didn't dislike being called Aurora but it was like an unfamiliar word. Everyone called me Rory, except my parent but they had been dead for a long time. Anything else sounded like a foreign tongue.

"Rory." His tan features stretch to accommodate his youthful grin. "That fits you."

"Really?" I frown, nervously wringing my hands in my lap. It's become a habit now that I play with my fingers, twisting them in my palm and often painfully squeezing them. It feel like a wake-up call to reality. But it's a dead giveaway. "I always believed that I should have a bloody awful name. Aurora sounds like…like…you know what princesses are?"

He shakes his head.

"Back then, before Panem, before everything, there lived these cities called kingdoms. Each kingdom had male kings and female queens who ruled over the land. They bore princes who would become kings and princesses who would become queens. My brother used to tell me those stories. I still believe every word. I don't think anyone can tell me otherwise anymore."

Chris nods, his mouth opens as if to ask a question but he decides against it and shuts his mouth. He stands up suddenly, suprising me.

"We should go back now." He murmurs quietly and I bring myself to my feet. "Effie will have our heads tomorrow if she realises how late we stayed up."

"She'll say something like, "Bags under your eyes! And on your _BIG BIG BIG_ day too!" I mimic her and Chris gives a short laugh.

We head back to bed in silence but wave as we enter our rooms. Friends. Allies. Comrades. Chris.

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_Then I heard your heart beating, _

_you were in the darkness too, _

_So I stayed in the darkness with you._

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**I'm glad you guys like it so far, please review or give feedback. I love knowing what you guys think about the story.**

**Lex**


	4. Royal Euphoria

**The Princess Of Panem**

Chapter Four: Royal Euphoria

**By BluebirdBrigade**

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**Aurora**

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I slept a grand total of 5 hours. It wasn't much but it wasn't bad in the sense that I was sleeping in an unfamiliar environment. Effie didn't go mental when she saw us, like I had originally thought. I guess she saw so many tributes so through the same, it was such a regular occurrence that it didn't faze her.

Chris and I got along pretty well, we spoke together at the breakfast to the bemusement of Haymitch and Effie. Tributes never got along unless they were careers. Or if they formed allies. But it was fine, because in my mind me and Chris already were and he seemed to think so too. I would have been worried that Chris was trying to pull the wool over my eyes, string me along and then kill me in the arena but he had a heart of gold. He was mature for his age but at the same time he had the young boyishness in his face that my brother in his early twenties lacked.

The food was utter heaven and I was beginning to believe that maybe that was what I would miss when I died. But at least I managed to get myself a decent meal before I died. Naturally, I wanted to live but if I had the option I would want to die on the first day. Those deaths were usually quick and painless. As the days carried on and the tributes decreased, the deaths became more painful and torturous. Some were not even committed by the tributes themselves, but by the game makers. Or as I liked to put it: the types of people who didn't seem to have a soul.

Haymitch finally put down his liquor and turned squarely towards us, his mouth setting in a grim line. "We'll be arriving in 20 minutes." He had just been informed by one of the capitol servers on deck.

"That soon?" I questioned nervously. He nodded and then purposely turned his back towards us and made his way towards the window. I watched him in confusion but dismissed the thought from my mind. My stomach had begun to clench and tighten at the thought of seeing the Capitol people.

For one bizarre moment all I could think of was, "Will they like me?" and then I realised it didn't matter if they did. I'd be dead in less than a week. Haymitch seemed adamant that we collect as many sponsors as we could, and Haymitch knew more about these games than I did. It must have been painful and mind-numbingly horrific to watch the tributes you got to know and mentor die before your eyes. Liquor had a hold of him now, gripping him to the point that he lost sanity and edged his way further into the darkness. I couldn't remember the last time he had been…happy. Like really happy.

Effie was squeaking about and clicking her heels against the floor in impatience which I found quite distracting. Christian and I spoke quietly with one another, voicing our worries and looking as if we were about to be sick all over the hallway floor.

Finally, Haymitch gave a roar of a laugh and his shoulders shook. We walked over to him curiously only to see millions of Capitol people all straining themselves to see us. Christian shrank back, shy and I just stood there mesmerised by the unbelievable mass of colour. They all seemed to blur into one like a rainbow.

The train screeched to a halt yet we felt nothing but the noise that let us know the train had stopped moving. A woman dressed in red handed me a small bag that when I opened it was filled with products from the train. Capitol-esque gels and creams.

"Thankyou." I smiled at her and she nodded, bowing her head so low I was sure she had fallen asleep. "Are you sure?" They looked pricey.

She didn't answer but instead nodded again. I was confused but when I turned to Haymitch he just answered solemnly, "She's an Avox."

"An Avox?" asked Christian and I simultaneously. I had never heard of an Avox.

"As punishment for the crimes they've committed, they have their tongues cut out." He asked simply as if this was an everyday occurance question. But as he said this, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. Tongues cut out? I felt sicker than I had been before.

Haymitch watched my expression and mumbled something unintelligible but before I had time to ask him to repeat what he had just said, the door to the train opened. Capitol people surged forwards like an army of colour, thrashing against the white soldiers who kept them back. Cameras flashed and questions were hurled at us like knives but we never had time to answer them even if we had wanted to. My vision felt distorted and there was sparsely any room to breathe as we hurried away from the crowds of people.

The rest of the journey felt as if it didn't happen. One minute we were on the platform and being scratched alive by a thousand screaming Capitol people and the next we were separated from each other. I ended up in a large metal room with a thin, blue gown wrapped around my figure which made me feel naked and exposed.

5 minutes passed by as I sat by myself in silence and thought about the past few days. Everything was happening far too fast. It was unbelievable and shocking how much had happened in so little time. I missed my brother too much. I missed him like I was missing a piece of my body. My hands felt numb and my legs trembled when I thought about him. He was the last part of me. He was the best part of me. He was the right part of me.

The door banged open, the sound ricocheting of the walls and deafening my ears for a couple of seconds. I stared in horror and curiosity at the faces of whom I supposed where my stylists. Each were different in their own way. One had piercings in her cheeks, leaf like tattoos around her eyebrows with startlingly long pink eyelashes. Another was covered from head to toe in a green dye, which suited her emerald green eyes but made her look even less human. The last had chocolate coloured hair which seemed to glitter and seemed to wear a permanent pout on her face. Her lips were purple, and her eyes were silver. I was fascinated by what I saw but in all honesty I was terrified at the thought of them touching me.

"LOOK AT HER HAIR!" One of them shrieked, immediately flocking towards me and scooping up a strand into her manicured fingers. She smiled wildly like an animal and turned to the others who were looking equally gleeful. "Just like they said it would be!"

I just sat there, resisting the urge to pull away and bolt. Haymitch said listen to them and do what they say. That's what I'm doing. This better be good.

"Isn't she just adorable! Like a doll!" Mortified, I hugged my knees to my chest and looked up at them in fear. They laughed like hyeena's and commanded me to lie flat on my back while they worked their 'magic'.

Everything on my body was primped to perfection. The hairs on my legs had been ripped away in a very painful experience, as were the stray hairs on my eyebrows. My nails were cleaned, filed and manicured and to my utter embarrassment, my body was revealed and rubbed down in a shiny lotion that smelt like jasmine but felt heavy against my skin.

All the while they made comments that sent blushes to my cheeks, and made me want to scream. My heart hammered everytime they opened their mouths.

"Look at her, so slim. No doubt her stomach will tone up during training. They work them so hard."

"Regal chin, just like Lucinda May of the darlington committee…"

"Her skin is slightly tanned. Ladies should stay out of the sun young lady! Freckling is bad for the complexion." One of them, I couldn't be bothered to figure out which one, tittered.

After a while of this 'magic' they sat me up and began to put different colours onto my skin. No doubt they were beautifying me for slaughter. Making me feel like I was worth something before I died. At least, more than a slab of meat. My eyelashes were elongated by some sort of liquid and some shimmer powder was dabbed across my eyelids. My skin felt heavy from all this foreign 'make-up'.

"Is this for all for the ceremony?" I asked tentatively. They seemed delighted that I had finally addressed them. After hearing the witter on about this, that and the other and gossiping, I got used to them being around me. They still didn't feel human, but it was due to this that I no longer felt self-conscious of my body.

"Yes! But it will be Cinna who gets to play about with your hair." She pouted at this but shrugged it off. "He and Portia have your costume."

Oh.

"Right." I said, closing my eyes for a moment. I hoped that they wouldn't give me something that was exposing or worse. I was quite frightened about what they would do. "We're still coal miners and everything."

They all looked at eachother and grinned excitedly. I frowned bemusedly, and quickly asked them why they were acting like that.

"Well, actually this year's Hunger games is going to be different!" Cried one of them, the one who was dyed blue. Her teeth gleamed oddly against the tint of her skin.

"What do you mean, different?"

"Last week, President snow's grandson was born!" Exclaimed the same one, looking ecstatic. They all clapped in enthusiasm. I frowned.

"And?"

"Well, to honour his birth, they decided to change some aspects of the games!"

"Shh, Marya! You're not meant to be telling her everything." Hissed the pouty one, glaring at the woman slightly. "You'll get in trouble."

So they were changing things about this year. No doubt to their advantage. They were going to kill us more gruesomely for their entertainment. To honour a child. I felt like I was going to vomit on the floor from distress but instead I just sat their, in my sweaty skin.

"Sorry." She didn't look it because she gave me a smile. "But to clarify, you won't be coal related this year."

What? But that was our theme! What was the Capitol doing? Everyone longed to see the designs that the stylists came up with every year but apparently such a thing would not happen this time around. It seemed impossible to my ear but I guess that I'd have to just wait and see.

They left me alone after what felt like hours of fiddling with me and making me feel like a fragmented puppet within their deformed palms. But almost as soon as they had left, the door opened and in stepped a man of dark colouring and beautiful eyes. He was young and seemed pretty human to me so I relaxed. The only alteration to his human physique was a line of gold on his eyelid, but that seemed to enhance his eyes further. He gave me a kind smile and stepped towards me slowly. I backed away on my weird bed that lay in the centre of the room.

He didn't frighten me but I was apprehensive to what he was here for. He ducked his head in a bow which not only shocked me but angered me.

"What are you doing?" I said gruffly to him.

"Bowing to royalty." He straightened and gave me a gleaming smile. I gave a short laugh-like gasp and shook my head.

"I'm not royalty."

"Your appearance begs to differ." He stated quite flatly. I reached up self-consciously to my hair and tugged on a strand. "How did a girl from District 12, end up with hair as silver as yours?"

"None of your business." I replied quite rudely. But I didn't care. I felt exposed and upset by everything. Couldn't they just leave me alone. Who was this person anyway?

"I'm sorry for offending you and scaring you." Said the man. I looked up as him in confusion because no one had spoken to me like such. Everyone had been saying how 'lucky' I was. How excited I should be. No one had apologised in any sense. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened." My eyes popped out of my head. Had he really just said that? Defied the Capitol, most likely. But he didn't seem fazed.

I began to trust him slightly. "It's okay. I'm sorry for being rude."

"Rude?" He scoffed. "If anyone is rude, it's…" But he stopped for a second as he ran his hands through my hair.

"You're Cinna?" I suddenly blurted out, realising who the man before me was. He nodded slightly and asked me to take of my robe. I blushed red and felt my palms shake. It was a lot different exposing myself to the other garish capitol stylist because I could pretend they were like animals. But Cinna was definitely human. And male.

"It's okay." He murmured gently. "It's just you and me."

I nodded and released the robe from around my figure and lay down on the bed, looking determinedly up as the ceiling. Cinna circled me a couple of times and then asked me to sit up. He pulled me over to a chair, and lay out tools on a desk.

"You have no doubt heard of the change in plans from my gossiping stylists." When I nodded, he sighed. "There will be district theme this year. They want to change things up to make this year special. More…entertaining." I let out a snort at this and Cinna smiled at me.

"So what is going to happen?"

Cinna looked me dead in the eye and let his mouth tug gently at the corners. "This year, the stylists get to choose what you wear. It's a fashion contest. President Snow is picking the winner."

"So…what does the winner get?"

Cinna gave a short laugh, almost bitter but amused. "Nothing. It's the hunger games. But it's what you inadvertently get…"

"Sponsors."

"Exactly." He suddenly surveyed me and I had forgotten I was completely naked. I turned my face away from his gaze and pretended to find something interesting on the floor. "Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"What?" The question had startled me. I looked over at the glass in the corner of the room. I didn't want to look. Cinna pursed his lips for a moment and then called to someone who was presumably outside. He walked over to the door and reached around and brought in a dress that was veiled by black material.

"What's that…?"

But I already knew even before he removed the cloth and showed me that it was my costume. But I never imagined that in my life I would see something so beautifully constructed and delicate. I felt my heart pound in my chest as I gazed at the fabric and then as Cinna in absolute euphoria.

"Tonight, Aurora, you are the Princess of Panem."

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**I love writing this story! Thank you for the beautiful reviews! Sorry for leaving you on a cliff-hanger (sort of) but it had to be done ;)**

**Lex**


	5. The Importance Of Grapes

**The Princess Of Panem**

Chapter Five: The Importance Of Grapes

**By BluebirdBrigade**

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**Aurora**

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We were brought to the chariots that would guide us in to the ceremony. I could hear the crowd chanting loudly, each call was animalistic and blood thirsty. Anger swelled within me but I gulped it down and turned to Christian who looked nervous. It was not only a competition between tributes but also the stylists. To add to this element of surprise and hinder any chance of other stylists stealing his ideas, Cinna had had us wear thin black cloaks over our costumes.

Christian and I shifted uncomfortably wrapping our cloaks more tightly around us. Every single one of the tributes was self-absorbed with their costumes and their stylists and overall, themselves. At least that was what I thought.

There were two who weren't paying attention to their clothing or their stylists at all. One was a little girl aged 12 who was twisting her auburn locks around her finger and chewing on her lip. Her eyes were focused on the corner of the room as if oblivious to the world. Her dreamy eyes never blinked but seemed glazed over. A tiny smile crept up onto her rosebud lips and I tried to figure out what could have put it there. The second person who wasn't in a flap was a boy around 17. It was clear from the number 1 on his chariot, the way he held himself and the way he looked that he was a Career. His muscles were clearly defined beneath his gladiator-esque costume. He was unbelievably handsome with dark hair that curled at the edges and hadn't been cut in a while. It wasn't long enough to reach his shoulder but give it 3-4 weeks and it would. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown and his lips were set in a grim line. It was uncommon that a Career would look so…miserable. The typical Career look was cocky, arrogant, smarmy, vicious… But one would never have guessed. Well, I couldn't say he looked miserable because nothing on his face indicated that he was. His jaw was tight but his features were not sad. But there were something about the way he grinded his teeth together and brushed a finger down his straight nose that made me curious.

But what was even more curious was what he did next.

He looked straight at me.

His eyes met mine and I could feel myself become shocked. Tributes tend to ignore each other if they can help it. But the eye contact between us maintained and I began to feel incredibly self-conscious. What was I doing?

I looked away hastily. From the corner of my eye I saw him smirk. Ah, so there was the famous Career characteristic. I felt my cheeks grow warm and I didn't look in his direction again. But I felt his gaze upon me as I turned my back and pretended to be engrossed in the gleaming chariot.

Then Cinna turned up, carrying a small box with fancy lettering and symbols on the lid. I raised an eyebrow at him but he jerked his head purposefully at the other tributes. He would show me when the rest had left.

A noise blew somewhere but I wasn't focused enough to know what it was and who had made the sound. All I knew was that I should get into the Chariot. My feet planted firmly in the chariot, my heart in my mouth. I looked at Chris who was shaking slightly. I took his hand into my own and gave him what I hoped to be a reassuring smile. He tried to return it but faltered at the last second. The tributes had begun to leave. The boy, the career who had been watching me, had just exited. One by one the tributes left. When the tenth chariot had disappeared, Cinna ordered us to throw off our cloaks. The district eleven tributes were too busy with themselves to see us, but I swear the other stylists stopped, stared and glowered at Cinna with envy. I smiled widely and cheekily at this. Good. We'll create a stir. Cinna opened up the box and pulled out a tiara.

The jewels glistened, sapphires that shone so beautifully it was like fresh water on a hot summer day. He tucked the beauty into my silver hair that he had elaborately done up with twisting braids. But most of it hung loose around my shoulders in curls, free from the hood that had been shielding the from view. The cloak had had a hood too, Cinna wasn't taking any chances. Before I could say anything more than, "Thank you." The chariot was moving rapidly towards the doors.

Chris's hand still lay tucked within my own. In an attempt to comfort him, I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand. The tight, locked muscles in his shoulders relaxed and he smiled at me. I could hear the crowd chanting the names of tributes, loud and in frenzy.

And then we entered.

No one had been expecting that we'd look decent. Sure, they'd loved President Snow's changes to this year's games but it was apparent from the look of shock that adorned every single one of the Capitol people's faces that they weren't expecting…us. They stopped chanting, pausing for a couple of seconds to marvel at us. Tributes in the other chariots twisted to get a glimpse of us and their jaws dropped in surprise and jealousy.

I was a bit confused. I hadn't seen myself in a mirror yet, Cinna didn't want me to. The dramatic man definitely had a theatrical flair. In the few seconds of stillness, I glanced up at the screen that showed us in our glory and my breath caught in my throat.

"Is that us?" I heard Chris whisper breathlessly.

What I saw blew me away. My dress was a literally like falling water. Cinna, oh perfect, amazing Cinna, had used some kind of shimmery and reflective material to imitatate falling water. As I shifted, the soft cloth rippled like a downward stream of water. A tight, band of gold spread across my middle and round my waist to emphasise what little curves I had and how small my waist was. It was beautiful, shining and the gold swirled in intricate patterns. The same patterns of gold could be found on the very tips of my shoudlers, holding the blue material in place. They were like little dainty wings. The tiara that lay upon my head did more than give the impression of royalty, I was a princess.

My heart hammered and I looked at Christian to check if I was really seeing correctly and saw that he indeed was dressed as a handsome prince. He looked so young, fit and regal. He suited the role perfectly. She realised in that moment that they had all been given a role. District 2 were gypsies, with silky cloths and veils that covered half their faces, District 5 were pirates. It was clear that Cinna had bagged the best option. Or he'd been given it because of his talent. It struck me that Cinna probably should have a had a better district to style than us. I was unsure why he was with us.

Chris had on a smart, red jacket with gold buttons that shone like money. I smiled at him and he smiled at me. That's when the crowd went wild. They were chanting our names, completely ignoring the rest. I felt like…I was floating on air. I completely forgot my hatred for these people, for the capitol. I beamed and gently lifted mine and Christian's clasped hands into air. Men and women were calling to me, throwing roses at my feet. I grinned with all my might, until my jaw ached.

I noticed that on the screen, a small cloak that Cinna had fashioned to the back of my unbelievably beautiful dress rippled into the air behind me and my chariot giving the effect of waves of water. We stood in front of President Snow who was stood on top of the platform. In an effort to become myself once again, I ignored his entire speech and instead glanced around the arena or sang lullabies in my head. At one point I sized up the competition, looking around at all the other tributes and to dismay saw that almost every single one of them save for the twelve year old and Chris were a head taller than me and almost twice my weight in muscle. I gulped slightly and then my eyes locked on a pair of familiar eyes that had somehow wormed themselves back into my mind.

It was the boy from District 1 and he was no longer just looking at me. He was looking at me with interest and… I frowned hoping that it wasn't what I thought it was. Because if it were true what I was thinking, he was looking at me with desire. Which would be impossible and unimpressive from a Career. Did he really think I was a silly stupid girl who would fall at his feet?

I turned my head away and realised that the Chariots were leaving the stadium. They moved swiftly and gracefully, never jolting us from our positions. My face had relaxed over the period of time where Snow had given the speech, and so my jaw didn't ache anymore. Cinna was waiting for us as we entered along with Effie and Haymitch.

"You were fabulous!" Screeches Effie as soon as she lays her eyes on us. She rushes towards us and envelops us in hugs that smell like an overwhelming stench of perfume and powder. I catch Haymitch's eye and he gives me a curt nod but I see the hint of a smirk on his smug face. I role my eyes but can't resist the smile that forms on my lips. "And you look absolutely gorgeous."

"It's not me." I say, looking at Cinna with ultimate gratitude. "It's because of Cinna."

"I just gave you the product. You gave the perfection." He says and I can't help but think how heart-warming yet cheesy it is. Chris laughs quietly next to me. "Now, let's get going."

"What? Where?" I ask in panic.

"Well…usually you are escorted to your rooms. But President Snow has decided to add more events for this years 'Hunger Games' to honour his new grandson." Cinna leads us through a door marked '12' and down a blinding white corridor. "I think he realised some members of the capitol were getting bored with the consistency every year."

"How awful. Well, of course he couldn't let the Capitol people get bored! That would just be utterly horrific." I say out loud and bitterly before I can register the words I've just uttered. It's sarcastic and sullen and it stops everyone in their tracks. They all stare at me wide-eyed and Haymitch says to me sharply and harshly, "Shut up girl. They have cameras everywhere. Don't be an idiot."

But I don't take it back and we carry on in an uncomfortable silence. Haymitch hates the Capitol as much as I do and everyone else in the poorer districts but he knows how to regulate that hatred. And unfortunately, I needed to learn that.

As Cinna carries on leading us through different hallways and through multi-coloured doors, Christian questions, "So, Where are we headed?"

"President Snow has cordially invited you to his ball."

I stare in shock at the back of Cinna's head and stumble furiously over my words in an effort to get them out of my mouth, "A-A B-Ball?"

"Yes."

Chris looks amazed but shrugs at me. The cogs turn in my brain, and I realise that this must be an event that Snow has decided to add to this years 'Hunger Games'. From what I had read about in books and learnt in school, Balls were social events where people got together and danced. Slow dancing was the most famous and the most common, although fast dancing was more impressive.

"I can't dance." I confess, running my fingers over each other nervously. Haymitch snorts unattractively and turns his head towards me with a raised eyebrow.

"Learn fast. Find someone who does. I'm guessing this is going to be another way to attract sponsors."

I moan inwardly, feeling dread creeping down my back. I was going to embarrass myself in front of everyone.

We entered a large circular room with hardwood floors and large chandeliers that hung from the oval ceiling. We seemed to be the last to arrive, as everyone had gathered already in the hall. Many twisted around to get a glimpse of us as we entered. No longer covered by the black cloak or too far away for anyone to reach me, I became a bit self-conscious but resisted hugging myself in case I looked weak. But that didn't stop my eyes being glued to the floor.

We were seated at a silver table marked '12' by an Avox. I remembered what Haymitch had told me about them Imagine being stripped of your voice for the rest of your life. The idea made me not only shudder but overwhelmed with sadness and sympathy. The girl, the Avox, caught my eyes but turned away quickly though not before I saw the amount of pain that was hidden in those forest green eyes.

We were all handed some kind of liquor at our tables, which Haymitch downed immediately and ordered more of, as well as a plate of grapes that were so fat and juicy that they looked ready to burst. Such a delicacy would cost a fortune in District 12. All for some fruit. I grabbed a couple and popped one in my mouth, biting it and savouring the sweet elixir that spread across my tongue.

"They good?" Asked Chris, and all I could do was nod. He laughed to himself and grabbed a couple. Soon he was moaning in pleasure. "They're superb!"

Effie blinked at us in confusion and surprise, and said to us, "They're just grapes…" But of course she would never understand. I hadn't even heard that there was an announcement until a Game Maker shouted through a large metal piece of equipment, "President Snow wishes that you all have a pleasant time, and reminds you that with it being a ball, there must be boy-girl couples. A rule has also been set in place that no tributes of the same district may dance with each other—"

"What?" I exclaimed, letting my childish side takeover as I pouted at Chris. He chuckled at my expression. "I'm not going to dance without Chris."

Haymitch raised an eyebrow and brought his liquor to his mouth again and drank. Once he'd finished he said to us, "You need to draw attention. Don't you want sponsors?"

I gritted my teeth. "Whose going to ask me?"

From the looks of things, the careers had paired of with each other leaving the rest of the tributes standing about nervously and uncomfortable.

"If no one asks you," replies Cinna "Then they are blind."

I blush slightly and try and hide my embarrassment at his compliment by turning my burning face away.

"Oi, Chris." I say to him, nudging him slightly and gleefully.

"Whafft?" He mumbles through a mouthful of grapes. I point over to the pretty girl I had spotted before the parade. Her auburn hair was slightly curly at the tips and her leaf green eyes sparkled as she smiled at the dancers. I could now see that she was from district 9, from the number on her table. If Chris had to dance with anyone, it was going to be her.

"See that girl." I say, pointing at her. He nods, slightly confused, then realisation dawns on him and his face heats up.

"No." He chokes on a grape, looking around at the others for help but they are all nodding enthusiastically except Haymitch who just winks. "I can't fraternise with the enemy."

"Tonight you're going to have to." Says Haymitch gruffly. "Go on. Be a man."

That makes Chris stand up determinedly. He walks over to the girl stoically but as he reaches her, he runs a hand through his hair nervously. She looks up at him, her eyebrows knitting together. Even from here I can see him stumbling over his words. She beams at him and grabs his hand, leading him onto the dance floor. It is his lead that makes all the other tributes pair up.

I turn back in my seat, pleased with myself.

"Excuse me." I feel a tap on my shoulder and I see a freckly young boy around my age offer me his hand. He has a couple spots and his nose is slightly broken in the middle but I admire his courage. "Would you like to dance?"

I stand up gracefully, or at least I hope I do, and nod my head in acceptance. Hopefully this boy can dance because I certainly can't. I take his hand and ignore how clammy and sweaty they are. He sounds nice, and has a fairly even voice and stands a good head above me. So I let him lead me onto the dance floor.

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But I soon learn that this is the last of his good qualities.

I was prepared to just sway on the spot and dance till the song was over, but it seemed that the boy had other ideas. He wanted to chat. Well, no so much chat as talk about himself. And he wouldn't let me walk away. It was getting slightly painful, having him talk my ear off. And he couldn't dance, I had a couple bruises on my toes because of his feet.

"—So I knew I'd get picked because everyone always said I was amazing at sports and everything, I always got picked for school competitions so I guess it's just fate that I got chosen really for the games…" His voice droned on in my ear. I sighed slightly sending another pleading look at Chris who was completely oblivious because he was dancing with his district 9 girl.

"What district are you anyway?" I but in and he looks momentarily startled that he doesn't answer straight away. He flashes me a smirk that he believes looks attractive and I force myself not to roll my eyes.

"District 2." I blink in shock.

"You're a career?" I frown. He didn't particularly look like one on first sight but now that I look hard enough, I see muscles ripple slightly under his shirt. But even then, they're not particularly impressive.

"That's right." He spins me away from him but looses control of me and I almost fall. Another arm reaches out and steadies me and I think, 'Finally, Chris, You've come to save me from this total idiot.' but I realise that it isn't Chris. It's the district 1 boy who was watching me before. I stare at him wildly and jerk out of his grip.

I breathe heavily and I don't know why but my tongue feels thick in my dry mouth and my lungs feel swollen and polluted.

The boy is incredibly handsome. Tanned skin, that is like a light bronze colour and dark hair that falls into his eyes and a strong, edgy chin. His face is almost flawless except for a dark red cut that scrapes along his jawline. His nose slopes down and his chocolate eyes searched my blue ones and after a couple of seconds he raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks." I mumble. I turn my back to him and reluctantly face the district 2 boy. I can't remember his name, or if he's even told me it.

But suddenly there is a hot hand on my bare arm, sending shivers down my spine and goose bumps cover my skin. I hope that he doesn't notice.

"Would you like to dance?" I first feel relief that I will be no longer dancing with this boy, but fear takes over when I realise that this guy may be worse. But before I can ask, my partner answers for me.

"She's with me, actually." I look up incredulously and in disbelief at my partner but he doesn't look at me but instead glares at the District 1 boy. Aren't they supposed to be allies? Instead their arguing over someone like me? How childish.

"Bit possessive are we, 2?" replies 1, raising his eyebrows and his rough, deep voice takes on a cocky tone. I feel 2's hand tighten on my wrist and I fight the urge to smack him. Well, he is definitely strong.

"Get lost." Snarls 1, and that's when I step away from the boy. He's starting to annoy me but tonight I have to act as if I'm above it all and used to boys fighting over me, haha, yeah right. I curtsy to the District 2 boy and smile a glossy but fake smile. He goes a bit red but bows and leaves. I sigh a breath of relief and scrunch my eyebrows together when the District 1 boy stretches out his arm.

"Don't worry. I don't bite. Hard." He smirks at me and I let myself be swallowed by him even though I know it's wrong.

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**I hope you guys like my idea :) I don't know if it's original or not because I've read like, one hunger games fanfic on here. Anyway, if you want to see who I think would be playing Aurora or what kind of dress she'd be wearing at the ceremony then check out my profile because I posted some links. Please message me if they don't work and I'll fix them straight away :)**

**Thank you for your beautiful reviews :) I guess all I can say is k****eep reviewing and may the odds be ever in your favour (cheesy, but hey),**

**Lex**


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